An Act of Desparation
by blue.nails.of.an.angel
Summary: MarkMaureen flashback. Maureen breaks up with Mark and he gets a little desperate. The title sucks, I'm sorry if I stole it from someone. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**I'm so stupid. I can't go more than a month without starting a new story. Notice I said "starting", as in, "I start them but never seem to be able to finish them!" But it's okay, I promise to finish my other stories completely; I hate when authors discontinue their stories. Anyway, I just HAD to write this because this was a story my mom told me a few days ago and I thought it could have been RENT related. I also wanted an oppourntunity to write Maureen as average-brained.**

**Italics are present, oddly enough.**

**Do you honestly think I own it?**

_Maureen sat with Joanne andMark at the Life, completely and utterly drunk. What she was doing, actually, was laying on Joanne's shoulder and bubbling with unnecessary laughter. Joanne wasn't as drunk as her girlfriend (she was sitting fairly upright), but she was laughing along nonetheless._

_"Hey, Markie," Maureen slurred, "D'you 'member highschool?"_

_"Nope," Mark aswered, hiccuping._

_"That's a shame!" Joanne said loudly, taking a sip of whatever she was drinking (nobody could really remember)"I'm sure those were great memories!"_

_"Yeah," Maureen said slowly, smiling to herself drunkinly and turning to Mark, "like the time you climbed myroof?"_

_Mark turned red, indeed remebering that night. It seemed far off. Was it really that long ago...?_

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Roger asked, slowing down as they pulled up behind the house.

"Well, yeah," Mark aswered his best friend, searching for Maureen's window in the dark. "She hung up on me. She was just about to take me back!"

"You're hopeless," He said.

"It's my speciality," Mark told him with a grim smile as he stepped out of the car andheaded towards the house.

"It's your _suicide_," Roger said to no one. He drove to the front of the house and waited for his friend to chicken out and come running. Smiling to himself, he lit a cigarette and leaned back into the worn seat.

.o.o.o.

Mark was panicking. That was her window, he knew, but he had never before noticed how little roof was under it. That was her room, he knew that too, but he didn't remember how high up it was. He would be fine, though; there was a window next to hers with more roof to climb on. He would crawl across there, grab her window frame for support, stand up and knock. Maureen would open the window, proclaim him the sweetest boy alive and then - well, he hadn't got that far.

He stood on the Little Tykes Jungle Gym and reached up for the roof. With a little effort, he was able to scramble to onto the ledge without significant noise. It couldn't wake anyone up, but they might notice it if they were already awake. Mark considered this, what if someone was up getting water or something? He shook his head and pushed it to the back of his mind. He had more pressing matters to deal with.

.o.o.o.

Erin Johnson considered herself brave. She always was the one who crushed the spiders in the hallways, went first into haunted houses, and told scary stories at sleepovers. At thirteen, she was less cowardly than her seventeen year old sister, who was no wimp either. She prided herself on that, and thought she could handle anything. Anything, that is, except for a man on the roof in the middle of the night.

She sat on her bed, stunned for a moment while the figure slowly made his way across the roof toward her sister's window. Her dad would know what to do. She threw the blankets off her and started down the stairs, thinking all the way down. Who could he be? They lived in a good town, there weren't any murderers around, were there? If this was a random attack, why did the person skip her window? Did they have something against Maureen? What would her father do? Did her dad own a gun? Would she need to call the police? Would her and her family be on the news or go to court? What would happen to the man? Would he go to jail? After what seemed like an eternity, she made it to her parents room and began to shake her dad awake.

.o.o.o.

Maureen awoke to tapping on her window. Not tapping, really, banging was more accurate. "Wha-what?" She felt her heart beat faster and could almost hear the adrenaline rushing through her body. There was someone outside on her roof. She turned to the window, expecting to see a man in a ski mask or something, but definately not this. Struggling for balance on the bit of roof that covered the garden, was her ex-boyfriend Mark, his pale face almost glowing in the dark. She opened the window slowly, making sure he didn't fall.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, amazed at his stupidity.

"You hung up on me. I still needed to talk to you."

"So you climbed my roof at two in the morning?"

"Well when you say it like that it sounds-"

"What are your parents gonna do if they find out?"

"I haven't really-"

"My God!" She said, looking at him like he was crazy, "Fine then, what do you need to talk to me about?" She could tell from the look on his face this wasn't how he planned this.

.o.o.o.

It's really impossible to understand what it is like to be a parent until you've been one. The pleasure found in your children's happiness, the pride in their acomplishments, it was like nothing else. It's easy to understand, then, how a parent can go to any lenghth to protect their children. From checking their closet for monsters to teaching them how to drive, it was second nature and extremely important. There is also the fact that men have it in their heads it is their job to hurt anyone who tries to hurt them or their loved ones. These are two of the most powerful urges in the world. Two urges that, when put together, can be extremely dangerous to the person on the other end.

Mr. Johnson, of corse, didn't think about all this as he told his daughter to"wait here," and crept toward the back of the house.All he knew was that there was a man on the roof in the dead of night and it was his job to keep his family safe. He couldn't hear anything, so the man had either not done anything or was already finished. Either way, he would not be too happy once he was caught; Mr. Johnson would make sure of that.

Mr. Johnson had always felt safe in his own home, so he didn't have a gun nearby, but knew he needed something to defend himself. He grabbed the fire poker by the door and felt it in his hands. It could do some damage if there was muscle included. This would have to work. Gripping it tightly, he slid back the porch screen and stepped outside.

"Who the hell is up there?"

.o.o.o.

Mark was not panicking anymore, he was really more shocked and numb. He was standing on six inch ledge in the dark with an extremely angry man in boxers waiting below with a fire poker. He remembered that in science, they learned about the fight or flight response. When faced with danger, the heart beats faster, blood clots more easily, and adrenaline is released. The brain makes the split second decision to stay and fight or run away. He remembered this, really, to keep his mind off the fact that he was now sprinting across a very steep slope and being chased by a man whose body had also just used the fight or flight response, but that man's choice was "fight".

.o.o.o.

Roger was getting anxious now. Had he actually gone through with it? Had he gotten caught? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, straining to see or hear anything. Suddenly, he heard a voice that he thought he reconized.

"No! Dad, it's Mark! It's just Mark, Dad! It's okay, it's Mark!"

What? That was definately Maureen, and she was definately reffering to Mark, but that would mean-

A figure appeared on the top of the roof and Roger indentified it immediately. Mark ran down the roof and toward the front of the house, stopping just at the edge. Roger saw lights turn on inside and a man in his underwear slip and fall on his way to the front door. Mark screamed and jumped to the ground. There was a painful CRACK! as Mark collapsed. Roger watched as he got back up and ran as best as he could towards him. "Start the car! Start it!" he yelled. Roger obidiently turned the keys as Mark jumped in and let out a cry, holding his ankle.

"Shit, man, you're bleeding," Roger said, speeding down the street.

"What happens now?" Mark panted.

"You're going to the hospital, that's a lot of blood."

"No, I'm fine. It's fine. I just need to-" but Mark was interrupted when Roger sped over a bump and his ankle throbbed again. "ARRGH!"

"Yeah, we're going to the hospital," Roger expected Mark to protest, but instead he only winced and took a deep breath.

"Hey Rog?"

"Yeah?"

"This really sucked,"

"No shit,"

"I mean, I didn't even get to talk to her."

**Don't worry, he's not going to die!**

**This is actually based on a true story about my mom. She told me not to tell anyone, but I think it's funny. This story is different from my other ones. I'm not sure how, but it feels different. Go figure.**

**Oh and yes, I used my name. I didn't plan on it, I swear, but I needed another Irish name! Besides, Erin Johnson is my complete opposite. I'm scared of the dark.**

**Reveiws are drug and you are my dealer.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay not much to say about this except that I couldn't get to sleep awhile ago because I was worried the last chapter was too random.**

**Oh well. This chapter is different. I guess it's not as spy-like. I dunno.**

**Um, I haven't been to a hospital in awhile so I might have gotten a few things wrong. And they cuss a lot in this chapter, sorry if it bothers you. No F bombs but I think Roger says at least one cuss word everytime he speaks.**

**I don't own RENT and this chapter of the story never happened to my mom, (although the guy did break his ankle) so the storyline belongs to me now. (muhahahaha!)**

It was nearly 3:00 AM by the time Roger and Mark made it to the hospital, even with Roger's reckless driving. Mark hobbled inside the emergency waiting room (with a bit of help) and sat down while Roger adressed the nurse at the desk.

"We need a doctor," he said to tired-looking woman.

She looked him over - dyed-blonde hair growing dark at the roots, eyeliner, earrings and a leather jacket. She sighed. "You'll have to call your parents," she said as she handed him the phone and returned to the papers on her desk.

"No," he said, his voice rising with annoyance, "No, you ass, it's him who needs the doctor!" He turned around just as Mark groaned again at the sight of his own blood on the floor.

"Oh my God," she said as if she had never seen a real emergency in a hospital before. She rushed over to Mark and bent to see his ankle better. Roger followed. "What did you do?" she asked, slowly rolling up the leg on his pants. Mark, however, did not seem to be able to answer as he slumped back, wincing, into the plastic chair.

"The little shit jumped off a roof," Roger answered for him, kneeling to get a better look. "Damn, you hit hard, man."

"I'm sorry, this might hurt a little," the nurse said, sliding off Mark's shoe.

"Ahh!" Mark gasped.

"Holy shit!"

"You seem to have twisted it up pretty good haven't you?" the nurse asked. She got up and began to walk away. "I'm just going to get a few things to clean this up and do some tests until you can see the doctor."

"Hey, does this hurt?" Roger asked, brushing his finger across the swollen purple mass that used to be his best friend's foot.

"YES!" Mark screamed.

Roger let out a small laugh. "Cool,"

.o.o.o.

"Dad! Are you okay?" Maureen yelled, flying down the stairs. She found him on the porch, holding his back and yelling down the street. "Dad, I heard a thud. Are you okay?"

"He got away!" he hissed. "I if I'd have caught him-"

"Dad, it was Mark."

"What?"

"It was Mark, Mark Cohen. He came to talk to me."

"At two in the morning?"

She almost laughed. "That's what I thought."

"What the hell happened?" Mrs. Johnson asked, emerging from the bedroom. Erin followed behind her, looking very scared.

"That's what I want to know!" Mr. Johnson said, turning to Maureen.

"All I know is that he came to talk to me," she explained. "I hung up on him earlier."

"Well you could've told me that before I started chasing the bastard down the street!"

"I _tried_, Dad. You were too busy screaming death threats!"

"Well your sister said there was a man on the roof so I-"

"What?" Maureen interrupted, rounding on her sister. "There was a man on the roof creeping toward my window in the middle of the night and you didn't come tell _me_?"

"I panicked!" Erin said.

"Well that doesn't matter now." Mrs. Johnson said, stepping between her daughters. "What happened to him?

"He jumped off the roof and got in some car. He looked like he landed on his ankle pretty hard." Mr. Johnson explained.

"Well we obviously know who the driver was," Maureen said. "It was definately Roger. You said he hurt his leg?"

"Yeah, his ankle," her father answered.

"Do you think he was bleeding?"

"Probably. There was a very loud 'crack' when he landed."

"Okay. Well the blood would've freaked Roger out," Maureen said almost to herself, "So I bet you anything they're at the hospital by now." She ran to the kitchen and dialed the number for the hospital from the "Emergency Contacts" list.The rest of the Johnsons stood in the living room, not sure what to do with themselves. "Yes, I'm looking for a patient...Mark Cohen? He came in with a busted up ankle...uh-huh...okay...Do you know what room he's in?...yes..." She scribbled something down on a sheet of paper. "B-14? Got it...thank you." She said and hung up. "I'm taking the car!" She told her parents as she threw on her coat and shoes and grabbed the keys off the counter. "I'll be back soon!"

.o.o.o.

Mark was sitting in a hospital bed, still waiting for the doctor. His ankle wasn't throbbing nearly as bad as before, thanks to the pain relivers the nurse had given him. She had taken his blood pressure, done x-rays and given him a sticker. Roger was sitting next to the bed and talking excitedly to someone on the room's phone.

"Dude, you have to come and see this...I dunno, hold on..." He moved the mouthpeice away from his ear and adressed Mark, "Can you wiggle your toes?"

Mark focused every fiber in his being on moving his toes, but he only let out a small fart. "Oops,"

"Aw, shit, Mark!" Roger said, returning to his phone conversation, "No, just trying makes him fart...Hell, yes, it smells...No...really?...That's awesome!...What happened to that guy?...Uh-huh...I honestly don't think he _died_...whatever...yeah...B-14...okay...see ya." He hung up the phone and fanned the air in front of his face. "God, Mark, what did you eat?"

"Who was that?" Mark asked, deciding to ignore his friend's question.

"Collins. He says he's coming to see your foot. He thinks you might die."

"_What_?" Mark asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Roger laughed. "God, you're so gullible. He wants to see how nasty it is."

Mark rolled his eyes just as the doctor walked in. He put the x-rays on the light on the wall and turned around to adress Mark. "It doesn't look as bad as-" he stopped, looking around the room and then at Mark."Where're your parents?"

"I'm eighteen. I have no obligation to tell my parents about this."

"Yeah!" Roger added lamely.

The doctor looked from Roger to Mark suspiciously and shook his head, turning toward the x-ray and continuing his explanation. "Anyway, it isn't as bad as it looks, but it is broken and you will need a cast."

Mark sighed. "Okay,"

"Wait!" Roger said, standing up from his chair, "Can you wait to do it until my friend gets here? He really wants to see it."

The doctor sighed and rolled his eyes. "Teenagers," he said, and left the room.

.o.o.o.

Maureen sped into a parking space and ran through the automatic doors. She was about to ask if she could cut the man in front of her, but she thought she reconized that beanie...

"Collins?"

"Oh," he said, turning around, "hey, Maureen! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see Mark," she answered, "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing, but are you sure he wants to see you?" he asked skeptically, "I mean, you just dumped him and everything so-"

"You mean you don't know what happend?"

"No, Roger wouldn't tell me, but it has to be something bad. He says there was a lot of blood and he couldn't wiggle his toes." He paused and appeared to be thinking, "but he can fart."

"Do you know where his room is?" She asked, looking down the hallways to her left and right.

"Yeah, it's this way," he said, walking away and guesturing for her to follow. She did follow-quickly. It was all he could do to keep up with her. When they finally got to room B-14, Maureen attacked Mark with a hug so ferocious Roger thought she might break his neck too. Collins, however, had a different take on the situation.

"Daaaaaaaaaamn!" he said when Maureen finally broke away and he could get a good look at Mark's foot. "What'd you do, man? It looks like you jumped off a roof or something!"

"Um, actually..." Mark said, straightening his blankets uncomfortably.

"He _did_ jump off a roof," Roger said, amazed, "how did you _know_?"

Collins laughed. "God, Mark! You jumped off a roof? Why the hell did you do that?"

Roger was the one who ended up explaining the whole thing. Mark fumbled with his blankets unneccesarily, embarrased. Maureen just sat next to him, watching his every move with a smile on her face.

"Wow, Mark," Collins said when Roger finished. "You're terrible! You could've killed yourself."

"Yes, Markie," Maureen said, "What were you thinking?" she asked him, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking his hair.

"I don't know...I guess I just wanted you back so bad..."

Collins nudged Roger in the ribs and they laughed, watching their friends fall for each other all over again.

.o.o.o.

Parents will do almost anything to protect their children. It's an ancient instict. If their kids are hurt, parents will go to great lengths to make them heal or feel better. If they don't know where they are, they will do everything in their power to find out. This is why sitcom parents scold their children everytime they get back after curfew.

Mrs. Cohen remembered these sitcom situations, and how she had always thought those parents were being over-protective. She promised herself right then and there that she would never be over-protective of her children. They were kids, they needed to have fun. "Carpe deim," "c'est la vie," -did these phrases mean anything to those TV parents?

It is, of corse, an entirely different matter if you wake up at three in the morning and find that your child is not in their bed.

Mrs. Cohen had been (as those televison parents put it) "out of her mind with worry". She had called Mark's friends -- Thomas and Roger -- but both of their phones rang busy. Expecting the worst, she had called the police - nothing. She drove around town, parks and neighborhoods and creeks flew by, but no sign of her son anywhere. Finally, at 3:30, she was sitting in the kitchen, her heart pounding, when the phone rang. She ran over and picked it up quickly, her hands shaking.

"Hello?" she said, breathless.

"Mrs. Cohen?" Theperson on the other end of the line sounded like they really didn't want to tell her whatever it was they had called about. Her pulse quickened.

"Yes?"

"Um, this is Roger, Mark's friend..." he said. Her heart slowed down a bit. "Mark's fine, everybody's okay, but we're at the hospital and-"

"WHAT?"

"Well, Mark broke his ankle and he told me to call you and tell you so you wouldn't worry-"

"You just tell him that I'm coming up there RIGHT NOW!"

She slammed down the phone before Roger could answer and grabbed the car keys from the hook on the wall.

**OoOh SuSpEnSe!**

**Okay, not suspense really. This was going to be the last chapter but it got kinda long and I've been absolutely CRAVING reveiws since I posted this story and only got 3 reveiws.**

**-insert clever plea for reveiws here-**


	3. Chapter 3

**THIS IS FINALLY THE LAST CHAPTER!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT but this part of the story is COMPLETELY of my invention.**

"MARK LEOPOLD COHEN!" Mrs. Cohen stormed into Mark's hospital room. Maureen, who had been sitting (respectively, of corse) with Mark on the hospital bed, jumped up as Mark gasped.

"Mom?" He said. He could tell she wasn't in a very good mood. Her hair was standing on end as if she had just been tugging at it with worry, bags under her eyes, the whole nine yards. Now though, she looked the farthest thing from worried. Roger and Collins, who had been laughing at some dirty joke, stopped and edged themselves away from the woman, fearing for their lives.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" She yelled, "YOU COULD'VE GOTTEN SERIOUSLY HURT! DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I WAS?"

"Mom! I'm fine!" Mark said, "I just-"

He broke off suddenly when the doctor entered the room. "Oh," he said, taking in the scene before him. "Well I guess I could just come back-"

"No," Mark interrupted, "just...explain to my mother that it's no big deal," he looked from his mom to the doctor, "_please_."

"Well," the doctor said, nervously adressing the fuming woman, "it's only a broken ankle...we just have to put it in a cast and he'll be fine." Mrs. Cohen looked like she was about to punch someone. "I'll-I'll just g-go now," he stammered and rushed out of the room.

"Mark," she said, fighting to keep her voice calm, "I don't care if all you did was skin your knee but you are never-_never-_to do that to me again. _Do you understand?_"

"Yes," Mark said in a small voice.

"Okay. Now," she said, looking around the room and noticing Maureen, Roger and Collins. "What are you doing here?"

They stood in silence for awhile, not sure how to explain. Finally, Maureen spoke.

"Well, it's kind of a funny story actually..."

.o.o.o.

Gossip is supposed to be wrong. It always hurts someone, and a good rumor never lasts long. Whoever started the rumor is almost always caught, and no one likes that person very much anymore. Gossiping is mostly lying, and lying is one of the seven deadly sins, right? Now, you'd think that people would learn to stop gossiping and twisting stories, but everyone knows that won't happen. It's just too much fun.

Maureen was keeping track in her notebook. There were now nine versions of her and Mark's story floating around the school, not counting the three versions where Maureen didn't take him back (she preferred not to count those in the total, it hurt her to spread them). With all the stories and incorrect facts, it was only a matter of time before-

"Hey! Mo!"

Maureen turned and smiled at the sight of one of her many guy-friends running down the hall to catch her at her locker. "Yes, Benjamin?"

Benny scowled. "Don't call me that. I just wanted to hear your story first-hand, as always. I think this is a record for you, eleven versions out before third period?"

Maureen smiled even wider. "Twelve, actually," she said showing him her notebook. "And why should I tell you which one is true?"

"Because you all were asses and didn't call me last night."

Maureen looked offended. "I tried to! The evil doctor with four arms wouldn't let us make any calls!"

Benny rolled his eyes. "What is that? Version seven?"

"Fine," she said, holding up her arms, "you got me!"

"Well that one wasn't really too hard to figure out."

Suddenly, the bell rang signaling the end of break and the start of third period. "I guess you'll just have to figure the rest out yourself, Benny! I've got a class." she said, walking away.

.o.o.o.

Mark wasn't really sure how he felt about all this attention. Sure, it was kinda cool. I mean, everyone in the school now knew him as "Mark" instead of "Maureen's Boyfriend", but it was also getting a bit annoying. He was constantly being bombarded with rediculous questions about the previous night, and he had no idea where they were coming from. It was also proving very hard to carry all your books (plus a camera) around while also on cruches. He sighed and sat down early in third period. Nothing to do now until-

"Mark-o!" Collins said, taking a seat on Mark's left.

"Polo!" Roger called, sitting on Mark's other side.

"Roger, Remidial English is down the hall," Collins told him, "This class is for people with brains,"

"Maybe I don't want to be in Smart Ass English," Roger replied, "Now Mark, are you gonna let me sign your cast or not? I may not be in Advanced Classes but I can at least spell 'Mark you little shit. Love, Roger.'"

"Thanks," Mark said sarcastically, propping his leg up on the chair in front of him.

"Well Mark, you're pretty well known now, " said Collins, "How does it feel to have the entire school know your name?"

"It's pretty cool, but I'm just glad me and Maureen are back together,"

"Dammit! I ran out of room! Well now it'll just say 'Love, Ro-gee.'"

Collins sighed. "My friends are such bitches,"

THE END

**OMIGOD, I ONLY HAVE NINE REVEIWS!**


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